


Season's Lovings

by orphan_account



Category: A-Team (2010), A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:52:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love can be said many different ways. Particularly over the holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Season's Lovings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wave_of_sorrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wave_of_sorrow/gifts).



> Written for the 2012 A-Team Secret Santa exchange on lj. 
> 
> Prompts that I worked with were: bratty!Face, domesticity, little moments in a relationship, angst, anything involving Hannibal's (if you want to indulge my little headcanon) Irish...ness, the team being a little family...
> 
> And most importantly: five things Hannibal and Face say to each other that actually mean "I love you".

i. Hannibal has said it so many times, Face doesn’t even remember the _first_ time it left the colonel’s lips, directed at him. And only ever directed at him. This is something that Face just knows.

It’s what Hannibal says to praise him for the smaller things. Coming from anyone else, it might have pissed Face off, if he were honest. If he were under command of any other officer, general, colonel, captain… he wouldn’t take it in stride and it wouldn’t make him stand just that little bit taller or grin openly. No sir. 

And that’s all probably to do with the fact that he doesn’t need acknowledgement from anyone else but Hannibal. He hasn’t since he met the man. He might not remember the first time Hannibal said the two-word phrase, but he’s sure Hannibal does and Face will never ask, but if he did, because Hannibal _does in fact_ remember… Well, Hannibal would grin around a cigar, eyes flashing bright in their blueness, and never tell.

Because Hannibal will never forget the way all of Face’s expressions had fallen into a blank stare for a minute, before his eyes had flashed with something like insecure hope, and he’d grinned a little slowly. From that point, Hannibal has enjoyed watching that expression change each time he’s said it, turning into confident response. 

So when Face romps into their current safehouse with Murdock just behind him, the both of them covered head-to-heel in soot, BA looks up and scowls immediately, but Hannibal sees the triumph in Face’s gaze, so he merely raises an eyebrow expectantly. 

“Job’s done, bossman,” Murdock reports, the pom-pom on the end of his blackened Santa hat swishing in front of his face. 

Hannibal nods, but he’s looking at Face. Face, whose eyes are shining with this sort of unfaltering joy that only reaches them in the rarest of times. He has to know what’s put it there this time. “Enjoy it, kid?”

“Fucking A, yeah, Hannibal!” He replies, and Hannibal just laughs already, and settles back against the prep table as Face launches into his de-briefing. “It was just like BA said. The house was a mess, windows broken in and boarded up, bricks falling off, and their power had been shut off. I expected to go through the back door, but Murdock found the chimney…” 

Face gestures down at himself, and Murdock’s responding grin is like a beacon under the black coat of ash on his face. They throw arms around each other as Face continues, “We did end up bringing in the tree the back way, and got everything set up, and made sure the case of cash was left where the parents would find it. And we made sure to make a bit of noise so the kid woke up.”   
“He catch Murdock going back up the chimney?” BA asked, now looking pleased. Pleased to know that this family he’d grown up with was getting help when they needed it.

“Yeah, man,” Face said, and Hannibal understood that look. The look of an orphan who’d been able to help a kid who was losing everything. 

Hannibal reaches out and lays a hand on the back of Face’s neck, giving a fond squeeze. 

“Atta’ boy.”

 

ii. They’re in this little place laying low, and Face finally gets so annoyed about being distracted by Hannibal licking his lips and adjusting the strap of his gloves with his teeth that he pushes the taller man up and drags him to the counter. He has work to do, trying to secure what they need for their next gig, sending butt-tons of emails and the like, and Hannibal can’t fixate his mouth on a cigar, so it’ll have to be coffee. 

The baristo glances up from where he’s stacking plates on a shelf, and asks what they’ll be having. His eyes linger on the two of them for a minute, and Face just snorts when Hannibal orders an Americano. 

He looks over the holiday list they’re offering and is pleased to see some originality on the menu. They can’t go to chain places like Starbucks anymore. It has to be off-the-wall shops like this, where they’re as interesting as anyone else coming in for a caffeine fix. 

Face orders something called a ‘Prague in the snow,’ which has mint in it and whip on top, and he pays for the drinks with his current fake credit card. He glances at the receipt when it’s handed to him, noticing that he’d been charged for the smallest size even though he’d ordered the largest. He thinks briefly that, were he a free man again, this would be the sort of place he might frequent. 

As he and Hannibal walk to the end of the counter to wait for their drinks, Face smirks up at his lover. Hannibal acknowledges the look faintly, which just makes Face split into a full grin. 

“You’re full of shit, boss,” he laughs, right as their drinks are set down in front of them. He grabs them both, keeping the Americano for himself, and passing the concoction he’d gotten over to Hannibal, who takes it now with a gentle, lilting smile. In public, Hannibal will always order an Americano, or something black. Face likes putting the baristas to the test and ordering something mildly complicated. 

But they always switch. Because when they’re at a safe house, just woken up before the sun, both of them not able to break that part of the military away within themselves, Face drinks nothing but black coffee, at least until past noon. And Hannibal fills his up with so much Irish creamer, Face has begged once or twice for him to do the accent. 

But this is how it is every time they’re out, and Face just can’t help but call Hannibal on it. Hannibal knows Face loves it.

 

iii. “Hannibal, this is the stupidest fucking plan you’ve _ever_ come up with, and usually when I say that it means I’m all in, but no. No fucking way, boss.”

“It’s Murdock’s Christmas wish, Face.” Hannibal says with a slight sigh, not lifting his head even though he lifts his eyes to look at his lieutenant. His hands are spread out over the scheme he’s set up, but he’d had a feeling as soon as he’d called Face over to look at it that Face would react this way. Because it’s a really off day for Face and he always has one around this time of the year.

The sneer pulling at Face’s mouth is not to be ignored. “Murdock can have another wish.”

“Face.” 

“Don’t even try the colonel voice,” Face bites out. Hannibal stiffens, then straightens, but Face realized his slip as soon as it was out and drops his glare to the floor, folding his arms, backing off on that point. 

Hannibal looks at Face for a long, hard few minutes, then looks back to the plan, plucking up the figure that represents his lover. “It won’t work without you and Bosco, kid.”

Face unfolds his arms to make a harsh gesture. “How is it supposed to work with BA _tranquilized_? We’re talking about going up in a jet and throwing presents attached to parachutes out of it. The cash I’ve saved up from our other jobs should be going to make sure we make it to the next actual job, not for something like this.” 

“I’ve already spoken with BA, and I know we have more than enough money to last us, so what’s the real issue, Face?”

There’s a long pause. And Hannibal can see the frustration ripping through his boy, and knows that if he presses again, Face will just explode rather than tell him. So he gives Face his time, and Face finally opens his mouth.

“… Who’s going to get BA into the plane?”

It’s Face’s admission to the plan, not his reason against it, but Hannibal takes it in stride. He sees how Face has internally fettered out what he’s feeling, and suspects Face can’t pin it down. He’s learned that about this man he loves. He accepts it.

He replaces the figure of Face back on the scheme, and looks over to the one that symbolizes BA, and grins slowly. He glances back up at Face, who looks a bit confused for a second, until his eyes light up with clarity, and he laughs out a loud, “You!” the same moment Hannibal does.

 

iv. It hardly ever happens that they use their real names in public. In private, Face stops being “kid,” and “Faceman,” and “lieutenant,” and becomes “Temp,” and “love,” in a strong Irish lilt. Hannibal is no longer his moniker, isn’t “colonel,” isn’t “boss.” He just turns into “John.” Sometimes “babe,” but never anything else that Face has used for the string of people before Hannibal became the last and only.

They only really ever did presents on years that it was affordable, and when it had been easy to get whatever they want to give each other, and weren’t on assignment. Now, they haven’t done it since before their discharges, not with the danger of being discovered so high. But this year marks three years on the run, and it felt like it needed to happen, so they made it happen.

It’s not really in public, but it’s still more than just Face and Hannibal, so when Hannibal passes Face a box wrapped neatly and incorrectly in simple silver paper, and says, “This is for you, Temp. Hope it’s the right one.” It raises the eyebrows of Murdock and BA, as well as the corners of their mouths.

And when Face plops a small cylindrical package, pristinely wrapped in red and green swirls, and says, “This is yours, John,” well. It suddenly feels like Christmas between two instead of four, but the other two don’t mind one bit.

 

v. When they sigh and breathe against each other’s skin, sometimes it sounds like a word, or a whisper, to both of them. 

The first few times Hannibal thinks Face has just fallen asleep, but the kid shifts or nestles in closer and lets out a grumble of breath, he holds his own. Because he thinks Face has said, “stay.” 

Face panics when he thinks the first time Hannibal tells him he’s in love with him happens at night when they’re trapped in a collapsed tunnel waiting for the rest of their unit to rescue them. Their supply of air is only going to keep dwindling, and Face tried to make Hannibal stay awake, even punched him to keep him up just a few minutes longer, but there had been nothing he could do after so much. So Face is already panicking, really, but quietly, at Hannibal’s side so much that he may as well be in his colonel’s lap. 

And Hannibal’s breathing is brushing over Face’s hair, suddenly the only thing he can hear. And what is sounds like is, “love,” and Face’s eyes land on Hannibal in an instant, but there’s nothing telling him the older man is awake, even for that second. 

But it made his heart thrum like a bass line. 

It still does, now that Face is tucked against Hannibal’s chest, essentially hugging Hannibal’s arm just to make it difficult for his lover to turn the page of his book. Face himself is playing a hard-fought game of Battle Ship against BA and Murdock as a team, because Murdock had insisted on using his newly opened toy immediately. Face is grinning at them both deviously over his grid-map, watching them frown to each other on the other side of the livingroom. 

He’s grinning, that is, until Hannibal says, “How many times are you going to move your aircraft carrier?”

Murdock releases the most affronted shout of the evening, and Face sends a glare backwards at Hannibal before taking off in a dash for the stairs with Murdock directly at his heels and BA coming over to Face’s abandoned map to see just where his ships actually were.

But just before then, Face had distinctly heard, “mine” breathed out against his shoulder, and later, he’d sigh back, “yours.”


End file.
